


The Appropriate Gift

by MiHnn



Series: Sweet Preference [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Humour, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-11
Updated: 2011-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-27 05:06:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiHnn/pseuds/MiHnn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Dramione Drabble Easter Challenge 2011.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Appropriate Gift

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt six - "There's nothing better than a good friend, except a good friend with chocolate." - Linda Grayson

  
It was never a rare moment when Hermione found herself with her hands on her hips and a disappointed glare aimed right at her two best friends. Although, she had to admit at some point that it was becoming way too much of a common occurrence.

"Come on, Hermione-"

"Don't start, Ron. You know what you did."

"In our defence," Harry began diplomatically.

"You _have_ no defence. Did you two even consider the repercussions of your actions?"

They gave each other a look that she could easily interpret to mean that at that moment, they just didn't care.

Ron looked at her sheepishly. "You have to see it from our point of view."

Her eyes narrowed. "And what's your point of view?"

Ron looked at Harry, who simply shrugged.

She couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Honestly, you two. What in Merlin's name made you think that I was dating Draco _Malfoy_?"

"What do you mean 'what made us think'? The proof was right there in your-" Ron's voice trailed off when his eyes fell on Harry; and Harry, in all his subtlety gave his best friend a meaningful look and shook his head in panic. The dark haired wizard then stopped this action when he saw that her eyes had fallen on him.

Something was _definitely_ not right.

"Ron," Hermione said slowly, very much aware that the person she was towering over was looking at his best mate hopefully. "What made you think that I was dating Draco Malfoy?"

Ron's mouth opened several times, no sound coming out as he looked at Harry for help.

Hermione turned her gaze onto her other best friend. "Harry?"

Harry sat stock still. "No idea."

It was obvious that she had to change tactic. "Boys, I promise. I won't get mad." Her tone was friendly, cheerful even.

The one thing she could always count on with Ron was his ability to believe that any occasion was safe without any proof. To Harry's chagrin, he actually spoke. "We read it in your journal. Now, how could you say that we have no proof?" With every passing word, Harry's eyes widened before he dropped his head in his hands with a groan.

Hermione hadn't quite heard that last bit. She was too busy hearing a white noise that seemed to be increasing bit by bit along with her anger. "You _what_?"

Ron stared at her, flabbergasted, while Harry finally looked at her through his fingers.

"Is that why you cornered him in the corridor and hexed him? Is that why you two have been trying to get him into detention all week? Is that why-"

"We were trying to protect you," Ron said quickly.

"From what?"

"Malfoy germs," he said innocently. Harry let out another groan.

Hermione took a deep breath so as not to hex them herself. "Did you two Sherlocks even bother to check if that journal was mine?"

Ron leaned slowly towards Harry. "What's a Sherlo-"

"Shh," Harry whispered. "I'll fill you in later."

Hermione decided to ignore their side conversation. "You know I share a common room with the most annoying git on the planet because we're both Head boy and girl. Besides that tiny fact, if you really thought it was my journal, what were you two doing reading it?"

For the first time since the beginning of their conversation, they both seemed speechless. Then, just as fast as anyone could have said 'Hogwarts, A History', they were off the couch and heading towards the exit of her common room. "See you at potions!" Harry called over his shoulder before he pushed Ron through the door and followed behind with a sheepish grin.

Hermione stared after them, completely surprised by the turn of events.

"I knew they would find out sooner or later, Granger."

Hermione turned around to glare at the one annoyance in her life, her mind making all the connections at once. "Did you get a fake journal, write a bogus entry and make sure that Ron and Harry saw it?"

Malfoy simply shrugged as he continued to lean against the wall lazily. "Your journal was extremely enlightening."

"Oh? Do tell."

"You speak on pages and pages of how absolutely fit I am." He lifted one arm in a way to show off those muscles that couldn't even be seen through the Hogwarts robes. "You also said what lovely hair I have." He ran his fingers through his blond locks suggestively. "And not to mention what a dashing smile I've got." He grinned widely; and Hermione had to admit that he simply missed a sparkle on his tooth to complete the image.

She tried her best not to smile at his antics. Lately, everything he did to annoy her wasn't mean at all. If anything, it was bordering on cute. "Very funny, Malfoy."

"Hey! Don't blame me. I'm not the one who believed that journal was yours."

She couldn't say anything to that. Instead, she huffed at him in agitation, marched right into her bedroom and shut the door behind her. What worried her was exactly how much the idea of dating him wasn't making her want to change schools. The thought of which - and she would never admit to it out loud - excited her.

That night, Harry and Ron left her a box of chocolates in front of her rooms as an apology, which Malfoy then found it in his best interest to steal.

The next day, she jinxed his books to run away from him as a punishment. And Malfoy, in turn, brought her that half eaten box of chocolates to try to convince her to lift the jinx.

Honestly, if he wasn't so interesting, she would have hexed him ages ago.


End file.
